


I'm Gonna Burn For You, You're Gonna Melt For Me

by badboy_fangirl



Category: Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-04
Updated: 2012-01-04
Packaged: 2017-10-28 22:59:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/313111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badboy_fangirl/pseuds/badboy_fangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trust breeds trust, Elena once said. Will honesty breed honesty?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Picks up the morning after the events of 2x12 "The Descent" and goes AU from there. Title lifted from the song "Give In to Me" from the movie _Country Strong_.

_It makes no difference_.

Zero, zip, zilch. _Zilch_.

That's the thought that races across his mind as he comes to, his face in the soft, wet dirt of a Virginian forest.

The forest where he buried Jessica. The stupid _human_ girl who had stopped her car when she saw someone lying in the road.

He learned that maneuver over a 146 years ago, but it works like a charm, every time. Never has someone not stopped. Never has anyone been wise enough to just. keep. driving.

But it makes no difference. Killing her doesn't make anything _less_ , which is of course what he'd been going for. The momentary pleasure had been an even smaller blip of time than usual. Rose is still dead. Jules is still lurking like some sort of self-righteous she-wolf when they are basically the same kind. It's just that Damon can never say the full moon made him do it.

Only he has ever made himself do it; well, except for that one time, when Stefan made him do it.

He groans, and rolls over so he's lying on his back next to the fresh grave he dug the night before. He'd imbibed a whole lot of alcohol--so much so that he passed out after he covered his ass, which is odd. He can't remember the last time he passed out from drinking too much. It seriously might have been when he was a Confederate Soldier ( _deserter_ ). It had been a very _long_ time ago.

Maybe he'd just been in a grief coma.

His cell phone rings, splitting the silent, cold morning air, reminding him that he has not fallen off the edge of the world--well, metaphorically he may have, but literally, no. He's right here, in good ol' 2011 sixty some-odd miles from Mystic Falls, and his phone is ringing. As he tugs it from his jacket pocket, he's rather astonished to see Elena's name on the caller ID.

It's not often that she calls him. He has a half-second of panic, of wondering if something has happened to Stefan, and he pushes the call button clumsily, his thumb mashing over three keys, but managing to hit the one he needs. "Yeah?" he asks harshly into the phone.

"Damon?"

"Yes, Elena. Were you expecting a different result when you dialed my number?" The world might be ending, and he might be in the land of desolation, but he will always have his wit and sarcasm to keep him company.

There's a moment of silence while she hesitates. "No, of course not. You just...you didn't sound like yourself for a second."

"Hmmm. Well, it is indeed me."

"How are you?" she asks, her voice timid. _This girl_. Will she never stop torturing him? God _damn_ her.

"I'm fine," he replies, forcing cheer into his voice. "And you?"

He hears her sigh. "I'm worried about you."

"Well, I just said I was fine. What more do you want?" He sits up, brushing dirt off his pants as he does so.

Her voice is stronger, almost angry when she answers, "I wish I could believe you."

"Well, wish in one hand and spit in the other and see which one fills up first," he snaps, and then he does the only thing he can think of: he hangs up on her.

He presses his stupid phone against his forehead and curses Elena in every language he knows (English, French, Spanish, German, _and_ Russian). When it rings again immediately, he switches it off.

He has to walk eight miles back to his car, but he goes the normal speed, and takes his time. He's got nothing but, so why rush it?

*

By the time he gets back to the Boarding House, hours later, Tyler Lockwood is there stirring Stefan and Elena up to all kinds of worry about Caroline. Nobody knows where she is, and Tyler "has a bad feeling" so they all trudge out into the woods to track her.

(Stefan has apparently been working out a Vampire-Wolf Treaty that Damon expects to _not_ really fucking work, for the record.)

Elena volunteers to go with Damon, and though he protests, and Stefan's eyebrows knit together, nobody can actually tell Elena what to do. Damon realizes that he could lose her in the woods, but of course he'd never do that because she would stubbornly stay out trying to find him rather than give up and go home and keep herself safe.

Not to borrow from Edward Cullen, but he did sometimes think the girl had no preservation instinct whatsoever.

They've been tracking the woods behind the cemetery for a little over an hour when he says, "I killed someone last night." Part of it is just to get her to stop looking at him furtively, to stop the wheels from cranking in her mind, and part of it is just to say it. To put it out there. _To run her off once and for all._

Elena brushes her hair back, throwing it over her shoulder as she looks towards him. "What?"

"Last night. After you left. I...got really drunk. And I fed. On this girl. Named Jessica. She's buried on Route 40."

He expects to see horror, to hear her gasp and back away from him slowly. He waits for that look to come over her face, the one that had been there when Jeremy died--that had been there for weeks after he lived. The one that had melted away for some inexplicable reason.

Nothing happens though. She just looks at him and asks, "Why?"

He shakes his head.

"Don't do that," she commands, and she lifts her chin in righteous indignation. "Don't treat me like a Priest and then say _I dunno_. If you want to tell me what you did, fine, but tell me _why_ you did it."

"Elena--"

"Because you really do know why, don't you? You know why you do everything. You use justification all the time, and you say you're not like Stefan, but I don't believe it. I've seen you help people and--"

" _One time_ ," he scoffs, "I put Rose out of her misery, I wasn't--"

"Caroline. _Caroline's mother._ Carol Lockwood. _Alaric._ My brother. _Me._ Stefan." Her in and out inflection of certain people actually makes him wince. She is always watching him, isn't she? "These are all people I've seen you help. Of course, I've seen you be awful to most of us as well, but that's not the point."

He can't help himself, he stops walking and throws his arms up in frustration. "What _is_ the point, Elena? You need to get it through your head just who you're dealing with!"

Her eyebrows go up and anger streaks across her face. "Oh, so it was for my benefit that you did this latest heinous act? It was so I'd know who _I'm_ dealing with? You are so full of shit!" She laughs mirthlessly when his mouth falls open. He's never heard her say that word before. She steps closer to him and pokes his chest with one finger. "You know what you need to get through your head, _Damon_? That you're a person, _with feelings_. And that until you start dealing with your feelings, you're going to keep screwing up your life, and by association the lives of everyone in your life, because we're all here. We're all a part of it. It affects all of us now. Think about that. Every time you do something you know you shouldn't; you affect all the rest of us." She takes a breath and then places her hand flat against his chest, giving him a good hard shove, which moves him not at all. "Wipe that smirk off your face. I know you love to torment all of us, but only because you can. It's only because we care about you that it matters what you do. Otherwise you would just go do it, and you wouldn't tell me about it."

She stomps off across the dead, fallen leaves, and he just stands there. This is the problem (one of many!) with Elena--every time he tries to push her away, she burrows in deeper, like a godforsaken tick. He made a promise to himself that he wouldn't pursue her, that he would respect her relationship with Stefan, that he would do one noble thing in his whole good-for-nothing life, but she just keeps doing stuff that makes it impossible.

He wants her more than he's ever wanted anything, and he wants to be whatever it is that she thinks she sees when she looks at him, but his greatest fear is that he can only be that--whatever _that_ is--if she's looking at him. And if she won't, if she won't really see him, if she won't be more than his friend and his brother's girlfriend, if she won't be honest with him in return, he can't fully commit to what she's asking.

Watching her broaden the physical distance between them while making the emotional tie shorter at every turn is driving him fucking nuts. It's all exploding in his head, and he teeters, just like he had the night before, just like he did that day in her room with Jeremy's life in his hands, only this time there is no one to kill, there is only Elena.

There is only Elena to tell the truth to, and to demand the truth from, and there is only this moment.

He runs after her, catching her in a flash of setting sunlight. He grasps her arm, pulling her around to face him, and her brown eyes are wide, her cheeks wet with tears that he didn't know he could make her cry.

 _I'm your friend, Damon._

It's not enough, it will never be enough, and he takes her face in his hands, gentles his thumbs over those wet patches before drawing her mouth to his.

He waits for the resistance, for the moment where the awareness in her eyes turns to revulsion, but it never comes.

So he kisses her, and he believes.


	2. Chapter 2

His hands are cold against her cheeks, but his lips aren't, and his mouth is scorchingly hot when it opens over hers. She doesn't even think about it, her lips just part and Damon's tongue dives inside, stroking hers and glancing off the roof of her mouth. He makes a thorough sweep, then retreats, and she finds herself leaning into him, trying to extend the contact, make it last, and when she pushes her tongue forward, breaching the barrier of his teeth, he makes this sound--something that curls her toes and makes her heart pound in her chest.

She's kissing Damon Salvatore, and she shouldn't be. She really shouldn't be liking it so much, either, but the last two days have been insane, so maybe a moment where she has apparently lost her mind is not totally unwarranted. Okay, so she's had a lot of insane days since she met the Salvatore brothers, but for some reason the whole thing with Rose has really spun her around.

She'd always known Damon hid his feelings, but this had been the first time he'd really shown her while he was completely sober. This time, when she hugged him and he didn't hug her back, she could feel his chest trembling against hers. That night in the cemetery he'd been as hard as the stone gravemarkers surrounding them, but in the great room at the Boarding House, he'd been so different. He'd been heartbreaking.

His cell starts ringing, so their lips slip apart. She knows before he even pulls the phone from his pocket who it is. Who else could it possibly be when she's kissing someone who is not her boyfriend?

"Yes, Stefan?" Damon purrs into the phone. The smirk hovers on his lips, but never quite forms, and the intensity in his eyes makes her want to run, far and wide. Run from what's been there for so long, from what she hasn't wanted to acknowledge, from what she hasn't wanted to deal with. She scrubs hastily at the tears on her face and takes a step backward, but his arm snaps out and his fingers snag her wrist.

(Forcing Damon to face his feelings has done strange things to her own emotions.)

He listens to his brother, whose indistinct voice she can hear, but the way he looks at her lets her know where his focus really is.

How many times has she had the argument with herself: _Why the hell do you care what Damon does?_ He _killed_ Jeremy. He's killed so many people, he's done so many things that are _just_ wrong. The problem is every time she starts to lecture herself, she remembers him in Slater's apartment, standing protectively in front of her, ready to lay himself out for her, right there, with no thought for his own self-preservation.

That's something she's known about Stefan, and has mostly taken for granted because she knows how much he loves her, and how much she loves him. It is mutual and completely the nature of their relationship to protect one another. He would die before he'd let harm come to her, and she has learned she would as well.

But seeing Damon--Damon standing there ready to be the sacrifice that she wanted to be--it had changed everything. Or maybe it had changed before that, on the stairs of that old abandoned house where they first fought Elijah. Or maybe it had changed the day she woke up and realized she'd forgiven him for Jeremy without even remembering exactly why. How had her anger burned away to leave nothing but concern for him?

Rose had come into their lives, and she shouldn't have mattered, but somehow she did. No matter what, Elena would always have the image of him carrying Rose away from the high school, and she would always remember the way he'd held her in the middle of that giant bed. (She'd been told to leave several times, so when she finally did, it was because she realized he needed the privacy.) And of course, she'd never forget his face when he emerged from the room an hour later and said, "It's done," in a tone of voice that scared her as much as when he wouldn't leave the tomb the night they hadn't found Katherine.

Maybe it had all started when he held her face in his hands and told her to _lie about this_ , or when he'd stayed with her in the basement after they locked Stefan in there, or when they danced together at the Miss Mystic Falls pageant.

 _Damon's like me. He wants to care, but when he does, he runs away from it._

So much of what Rose said in those last few minutes she spent with her echoes in Elena's mind. She thinks of all the times Damon _hasn't_ run from her, and it makes her question everything.

( _I killed someone last night._ )

Perhaps it started when Katherine hadn't been in the tomb. Or while they had been in Atlanta. ( _I wanted it to be real_.) Or...maybe it had started the first time she'd ever seen him in the entrance of the Boarding House, and she'd felt inexplicably frightened, but _she_ hadn't run.

If she hadn't run when she first learned the truth, it's really unlikely she'll run now. Even though now, it's far more dangerous than it's ever been before. His grip tightens around her wrist as though he can read all of that on her face, and he pulls her closer so there are mere inches between their bodies. He says into the phone, "We're on our way."

Disconnecting the call, he says, "Stefan and Tyler found Caroline, we need to go." But then he just stands there and looks at her and Elena feels this _longing_ in the pit of her stomach. She wants to hug him again--only not _hug_ , but hold him and bury her face in his throat and feel his hands in her hair, and along her back, and under her chin, tipping her face up to his. She wants his mouth on hers, and that feeling of possession, the thing that has pulled men and women together since time began--she wants to know it with him.

It's strange when you have a series of thoughts and images run through your mind and you know the person whose eyes you're staring into shares all of them, with no words, with no outward indication.

His hand slides away from her wrist slowly, and he steps away from her to start back toward the car. She trots after him, and tries to focus on the matter at hand by asking, "Where's Caroline?"

"Jules has her, so we're going to have to kick a little werewolf ass to get her back."

"You're helping Caroline again," she says, grinning a little, unable to not point out the obvious.

"Yeah, well, we're going to have a discussion later about that kiss, too, Missy. So don't think only one of us has to tell the truth here."

He opens the car door for her and their eyes meet as she stands on the other side. "Damon--"

"Not now. There's not time, and I can't be distracted. Remember how when we went to get Stefan from Pearl's, and you didn't do what I told you--you didn't stay in the car?"

Elena nods.

"And remember when I came to get you in Richmond and I told you I'd break your arm if you tried to give yourself up to Klaus's minions?"

Elena nods again, frowning at where his train of thought is leading them.

"Swear to me, upon pain of broken limbs, that you will not get out of this car once we get to where we're going. If you won't swear it--I'll just put you in the trunk right now."

"Damon!"

"I'm serious. Swear it." He tilts his head and his eyebrows go up. "Swear. It," he repeats, and he does that thing with his eyes that would compel her if she weren't wearing vervain.

"Okay, okay! I swear it." He just stares at her and she reaches up to put her hand over his on the top of the car door. "I promise you, Damon. I won't get out of the car."

"Okay, then. Let's roll."

*

Elena is hidden in a copse of trees, sitting in Damon's car. She can't see anything, so she has no idea if the rescue effort's going well, or if Tyler Lockwood will be dead when all is said and done. She asked Damon not to kill him before he got out of the car, but he wouldn't promise anything, and they didn't have time to argue since Stefan was waiting somewhere for him. His eyes had lingered on her lips for five glorious seconds and she thought he might kiss her again, but he didn't, and she told herself she wasn't disappointed.

 _You never forget what it's like. To be human. It haunts me._

Rose's words are haunting Elena. It haunts her because it explains so much about Damon, and as much as she thinks she already understands about him ( _he's not angry, he's hurt; there's a difference_ ), she really fears understanding any more deeply. Every layer she delves into makes the feeling in her chest for him increase until it seems to shove out everything else, until she feels angry towards Stefan in a way she never has before.

(Until she feels angry at herself, and every other person who doesn't _get_ it when they look at Damon.)

In the past when she learned things that the brothers slowly and separately revealed to her about their relationship, she'd almost always sided with Stefan. Even in the circumstances where Stefan was obviously in the wrong, because she knew the pain it caused him to have ever have inflicted pain upon anyone, but especially his brother.

See, Stefan loves Damon so much. There had been many moments when she'd seen the older brother through his younger brother's eyes, and it had slowly helped shape her view of Damon. Stefan fought so hard against loving Damon, because loving Damon was not easy in any way. But at the end of the day, it still came down to the simple fact that he could not turn away, and he would never be able to.

And somewhere along the way, Elena realizes she too had adopted that stance. But it isn't in a sibling-induced way, though she tried very hard to emphasize the fact to both Damon and herself, that their _friendship_ is what made her care, and made her reach out to him, and made her want him to deal with the emotions broiling inside him.

But friendship isn't the only reason she'd gone back to the Boarding House the night before. She thought maybe she could breach the gap on some of the things Rose had said, but she quickly figured out it was all too soon. He wasn't ready--she feared he never would be.

But she can't let it go, she knows that. She knows she won't let it go, even if it means she has to deal with things she's managed, up till now, to avoid.

She nearly jumps out of her skin when the driver's door handle rattles and she lunges across to unlock the door. Tyler, Caroline and Stefan all clamber into the back seat and Damon shoves the seat back and slides into the front seat. He spares her a brief glance and then starts the car.

As they drive away, the sounds that fill the car are Caroline's whimpering sobs and Tyler's hushed, "I'm so sorry, Care, I'm so _sorry_ ," and Stefan's crooning whispers.

Elena reaches over and puts her hand on Damon's shoulder. His left hand leaves the steering wheel to pat and squeeze her fingers quickly. "They're okay," he says quietly, but then he guns the car and they race back to the Boarding House as darkness falls.

*

Once they're inside the house, Damon and Stefan go to town playing good cop/bad cop with Tyler and Elena takes Caroline to Stefan's room. She helps her dig out wooden bullets and toothpicks from various places in her body and she can't help but cry right along with her friend.

Caroline has been tortured, but the reality is it could have been so much worse. This is of course what Elena has been trying to avoid altogether, anyone she loves dying. Anyone she loves being _hurt_.

Once Caroline's body is free of all wooden objects, Elena helps her get into the shower and clean up. Stefan comes to find them a bit later and tells them he thinks he got through to Tyler, though it's hard to tell.

"Damon threatened him enough, and I let him get as scary as he wanted--hoping," he says, shaking his head. Elena can tell he's not sure if it was the right way to handle it, but part of her also hopes that Damon put the fear of God into Tyler.

The fear of Damon is probably very similar, since she's felt that fear before but she doesn't really believe in God, so you know. Subjective. Hopefully Tyler's experience tonight will be enough to convince him not to be anti-vampire.

Caroline emerges from the bathroom wearing some of Stefan's clothes and Elena notices his face softens as he takes in her appearance. Caroline's bottom lip trembles, but she steels herself, not breaking down in front of him the way she had with Elena.

"You want me to take you home?" he asks, and Caroline nods.

He gives Elena a small smile, and his hand reaches out to squeeze her arm. "You'll be here when I get back?" he asks.

She nods and he leans in to kiss her. At the last second she turns her head so that his lips graze her cheek. "Be careful," she whispers.

She watches his arm surround Caroline's shoulders as they leave the room. "You like my sweats?" he asks. Caroline releases a soggy little laugh and he goes on, "Well, you can keep them."

Elena listens as their footsteps fade down the hallway, and she contemplates following them. That's what she should do, go back downstairs and wait with Damon while he drinks. Wait for Stefan to come back.

Wait until she has to try to look her boyfriend in the eye and tell him she thinks she might have something going on with his brother.

Instead, she sits down on the sofa on the far wall and hides. (It's not really hiding since Damon can find her easily enough, and soon he shows up, his deliberate steps warning of his arrival before she sees him.)

He comes around the corner and when their eyes meet, they both say at the same time, "Stefan took Caroline home."

Then Damon laughs; he seems nervous, and Elena finds that endearing. She stands up to be on equal ground with him. He takes a step towards her and she does the same, and then they both sort of hesitate, and she realizes he's waiting for her to lead. It surprises her so much, because Damon never waits, or considers anything, so she's at a loss.

When he reaches for her, she goes willingly into his arms but as he drops his mouth to hers, she slides a hand between their faces. His eyebrows quirk and his grip on her waist tightens. She moves the hand over his lips to his cheek and lifts her other hand to the other side of his face. Gently, she runs her fingers over his skin, skimming down over his jaw to the sides of his neck. As she does that he shudders slightly and then she stretches herself up so that her chin can fit into the cove of his shoulder and neck. She just hugs him, like she had the night before, her arms tight around his shoulders.

She remembers more of Rose's words, _So much time wasted. I just wish I hadn't been so afraid._ This is what Damon is afraid of. Closeness. Caring. If she just lets him kiss her, he can pretend that they have intimacy, and though Elena really wants to kiss him, she knows if she's going to do this--if she's going to go there with Damon, it's about so much more than that.

It takes him a minute, but he finally responds, his arms surrounding her torso, pressing her body fully against his from shoulder to knee. When he drops his face down into her neck, Elena feels tears sting her eyes.

They stay like that for a long time, until she feels that their breathing has synchronized. Damon's lips brush her earlobe and he murmurs against her ear, "So, you do realize our biggest problem is not Stefan, then?"

She pulls back to look into his face and asks, "Do _you_ realize that?"

He smirks. "I'm Damon, you're Elena. There is no need for Stefan to be involved for everyone to know that that equation is not going to work well."

"I don't know what any of this means for me, yet, Damon. You're going to have...to be un-Damon-like while I figure it out."

His expression gets serious and he nods. "Alright," he says agreeably. "As long as you understand that this is not about you saving me. Okay?"

Elena nods and steps back from him; he lets her go without a fight. "Oh, yeah. I know that."

She pauses, and makes sure his eyes are on hers when she finishes with, "It's about you saving yourself."


	3. Chapter 3

They'd been in the car, on their way to town to hunt for Rose, when Liz Forbes called Damon to report a Vampire attack.

The both of them already knew it was bad, but the phone call had cemented it. He cursed under his breath ( _fuckity, fuck, fuck, fuck!_ ) and Elena's hand wrapped around his tensed forearm as he planted his hand back on the steering wheel.

"This is not going to end well," he muttered.

"No," she whispered.

In the silence, Damon hoped for something-- _anything_ \--to present itself, for a solution he could not fathom to bear the brunt of something he wasn't sure he could weather.

Then Elena started talking about Rose's ancestral home, the hills, and the horses. She had painted this picture so vividly that when he'd parked the car at the high school, he'd already known what he would do with that information.

That had been more than 24 hours earlier. Now, he's in his room, lying on the bed where he staked an already dying vampire, and he doesn't strain to hear whatever Stefan and Elena are talking about on the other side of the house.

He doesn't strain his ears because neither of them are whispering, and neither of them seem to care if he hears them.

(He doesn't want to hear them.)

He wants them to break up, yes. But he doesn't want to hear the hurt in his brother's tone, or sense the epic guilt that must be weighing Elena down as her footsteps falter on the other side of his door, but don't stop. She leaves the Boarding House, which is what she needs to do.

It's not like they're going to face each other across a meadow and run into each other's arms. He hadn't even given Rose such a cheesy moment in her last earthly experience.

No, when he takes Elena, there won't be any cheese involved. There won't be any lies, or subterfuge, and there won't be any fucking Stefan. There will be Damon, and Elena, and the ramifications of _Damon and Elena_ will be apparent to both parties.

He has waited for it, and he'll have to wait some more. He'd given up, seceded the prospect altogether, though it was quickly and easily redetermined.

All he has to do now is close his eyes to remember her mouth, open and eager beneath his; it's not a fantasy, it's not anything that can be erased. It's also not like anything he's ever experienced before.

It had been passion for him, not created by him, in spite of Stefan, and in spite of her own denials. It had contained an element of honesty he has only experienced twice in his life--one, when Katherine finally confirmed that none of it had been real between them, and two, when he had confessed it all to Elena, only to make her forget.

He can never make her remember that night, but he can give it to her again, if he so chooses.

There's a knock at the door, and then his brother comes into his room. Damon rolls up on to his side, propping his head on his hand. "'Sup," he asks with a smirk, and Stefan actually smiles.

Damon's surprised, really, to see any expression of happiness on his little brother's face. But then Stefan's eyes come up to his and he sees it's not happiness exactly--it's resignation.

(He hates this about Stefan. Just once he'd like Stef to punch him in the face, take his just desserts. But he never will.)

Stefan shoves his hands into his jeans pockets and leans back against the door. "So, Elena just broke up with me."

"I heard," Damon says, cupping a hand around his ear.

"She's upset about my bringing John back to town, but she's also confused by what happened here with Rose yesterday. With Rose and you."

Damon scoots off his bed to stand up. If he and Stefan are going to have even an intellectual showdown, he probably needs to be upright for it. "I had no idea Rose was going to go batshit crazy, Stefan. But luckily for us, Elena is resourceful. She didn't get hurt."

"Lucky isn't the word I'd use," Stefan says, the first tinge of anger showing. "You are far too willing to include Elena in things that she shouldn't be a part of."

Damon finds that funny and can't help but chuckle a little as he shakes his head at his brother. "You try leaving her behind. It's impossible. At least if she's with me, I know what the hell she's doing."

"If you get her killed, I'll never forgive you." It's such a huge pronouncement, it actually shocks Damon into speechlessness for a moment.

He watches his brother, the guy who has, after minor hiccups, always chosen the better way, done the right thing, tried so hard to be better than everyone around him so he could look down from his place of superiority. Damon finds that it would probably be easier for all of them if something tangible were to happen that any of them could cling to as the moment of division.

The problem is, of course, that there has been too much Stefan-Elena-Damon for too long. And Damon never expected to come out on the heavy side of the equation, and who's to say he will even now. Elena hadn't made any promises, she'd just ended things with Stefan so she wouldn't be breaking anything between them irrevocably.

So Damon makes Stefan face the reality right now, before they are called upon to make the decision. "What if I turn her? Will you hate me for that?"

Stefan clenches his jaw and folds his arms over his chest, but says nothing.

"You know that's what it's going to come to if we can't stop the Sacrifice from happening. She'll have no choice but to do what Katherine did. Because you and I both know we're not letting her die, even if she thinks that's the solution to everything."

"If you can convince her, fine," Stefan spits out.

"Have you tried?" But Damon already knows the answer.

"How could I put this on her, Damon? How can you? Once upon a time, wouldn't you have rather died? Given the choice."

"Given the choice, I didn't think I had anything to live for then."

Stefan's brows raise, and comprehension slides over his features. He pushes himself away from the door, and moves to stand in front of Damon. "Tell the truth, once and for all. Do you love Elena?"

Here's where, under normal circumstances, Damon would play the evasive, humorous, don't-be-a-jealous-moron-Stefan card, but since these aren't normal circumstances...since everything hangs in the balance, and he's going to have to come clean with Elena at some juncture too, given the way it's all playing out, there's really no reason to hedge his bets.

"Yes, Stefan, I love her."

Saying it out loud--to someone who will remember he's said it--makes his head swim, but he hopes his face is holding steady. He feels himself blink too many times though, and Stefan's eyes never waver.

"Then don't screw this up."

Stefan turns and leaves then, and Damon would ask him what the fuck that means, but he's afraid he already knows.

*

For the next few days, Elena holes up in her bedroom, leaving only for school and meals. Jenna keeps giving her _what's going on_ looks, but never actually asks anything, and Jeremy has somehow fallen into love with Bonnie, thus making him completely oblivious to any changes in his sister. What makes Elena aware of how wrapped up she is in her own drama is the fact that she had no idea Bonnie liked him back until she caught them making out in his bedroom.

It had been embarrassment all around for the girls, but Jeremy had a little more swagger in his step and a whole lot of a shit-eating grin on his face, showing he had no shame at all.

Sometimes stuff like that just sneaks up on a person.

At least, that's what Elena says to Bonnie later when her best friend comes to her room to make sure she's not upset about it. There's one moment where she almost blurts _I broke up with Stefan because I have feelings for Damon_ , but she tries very hard--and succeeds--at letting Bonnie have a moment that is entirely about her for once.

It's after she's alone again, and the house is quiet with night sounds, that she picks up her cell phone. Damon's already on her list--previously for convenience sake--but it's easy enough to push the button.

"Good evening," he says, his voice velvety and happy sounding.

The way her stomach flips tells her that she should have done this sooner. "What're you doing?" she asks.

"Reading a book. What are _you_ doing?"

"Nothing. I just found out Jeremy and Bonnie are dating."

"Shut the front door."

"I know, right?"

He makes a low whistling sound. "Good for Jeremy." There's just enough of a tone in his voice for Elena to roll her eyes. _Men._ "You know," he continues, "now that you mention it--I guess I knew he had thing for her, he got all protective a few times there. But I figured she'd never go for him. So. Good for Bonnie. He's a good kid."

Elena sits up from her reclining position on her bed and gasps, "What the hell, Damon? I was counting on you to be snarky and negative about this."

"Why would I be negative and snarky about it? Should I be? Are we anti-Jeremy-and-Bonnie?" He sounds genuinely perplexed.

"No, I guess not," she says grumpily. "I just...I don't know. It's a little crazy. They've known each other forever."

"Some say that's the perfect basis for a relationship," he offers.

"Oh, God. Stop acting like Stefan!"

He bursts into laughter, and it curls through her, the thought of him actually being happy, of teasing her in a way that only he knows would irritate her. When his laughter subsides, he says, "I suppose you didn't call to gossip about your brother? Is there something you wanted?"

She knows he did that on purpose, because his voice drops, darkens slightly over the word _wanted_ and a new and different wave of feeling flows through her body. It's strange how now that she's let herself acknowledge it, it's so much more powerful than it was before. She's never been immune or blind to Damon's attractiveness, but it's different now. Details about him consume her mind from time to time, his eyes, his lips, the distinct line of his jaw, his arms. His chest. The way he kissed her. The way he felt pressed against her, hard and warm and strong.

"I thought maybe we could hang out sometime." That's the lamest thing she could ever say, but it's all that comes out when she opens her mouth.

"You mean, like go on a date, hang out, or play X-Box with Jer and Bon and act as chaperones because you know Jenna's not going to do it?"

"I mean, go somewhere together, just the two of us."

"Oh," he says jauntily. "A date, then. I'd love to. This is very progressive of you, Elena."

She'd be irritated by the smugness in his voice, but for some ridiculous reason she can't stop smiling. "Pick me up, tomorrow, at seven. Okay?"

"Okay. And Elena?"

"Yeah?"

"Wear something nice. I'm going to take you to a fancy place."

"You don't have to do that," she says.

"I know. I _want_ to. So dress up."

"Alright."

"Good night, Elena."

"'Night," she says softly. As she sets her cell phone on the bedside table, she catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror on the wall. If her elated expression is any indication, she's in way too deep.

*

Damon doesn't say anything to Stefan as he's leaving the Boarding House the next evening. He's not really sure what Stefan's mindset is about all this, though he feels as though his brother has gallantly stepped aside, and part of him really appreciates it. But the other part of him still thinks they need to have it out the old fashioned way.

He thinks he'd feel better about how borderline happy he is if Stefan decked him. Because, come on. It's just wrong for Damon Salvatore to be happy.

Elena opens the door herself, wearing a comely black dress with cap sleeves. She looks beautiful (nothing new) and she smiles so brightly he almost hears the twinkle sound as the overhead light hits her teeth.

He hands her the single, long-stemmed red rose he picked up for her and she sniffs at it delicately before sticking it into a nearby vase that already holds some flowers. "Thank you," she murmurs, leaning up to kiss his cheek.

He lets her, because he doesn't know where Jeremy and Jenna are, and shoving her up against the door and kissing her until they're both breathless is not an option right now.

(Soon. Very, very soon.)

As they drive to the restaurant, she tells him about mundane things like school and the argument she overheard between her aunt and Alaric, and Damon listens with the assumption that deeper, harder conversations await them this evening, so he might as well enjoy the boring stuff while it lasts.

"Wow," Elena says as Damon helps her out of the car. "I've never been here before."

It's a French restaurant in the very nicest part of Mystic Falls. He takes her hand and tucks it into his elbow as the valet drives the car away. "That's because you only ever go to the Grill."

She giggles and her fingers curve into the sleeve of his sport jacket. "Are they going to card me?"

"Not if I compel them."

She makes a sound of disapproval, but doesn't do any real protesting. He wonders if she realizes how far she's come in the last year. She takes everything in stride--from confessions of murder to simple conveniences like compulsion to ease the way in certain places.

She's not the same girl that he stalked in a graveyard almost two years ago.

While they eat the rich food that Damon orders for them because of course Elena doesn't read French, nor does she know what anything really is, they have the most lovely time. It's totally and completely an ideal first date. He says funny things and she laughs, and then she quips back at him, delighting him with her quick wit, and can feel himself falling further, a fast, swooping sensation in his stomach that should scare the hell out of him.

And it does, but not as much as it thrills him.

At one point, she puts her hand on his, and their fingers curl together of their own volition, and Damon can't stand it anymore. He reaches with his other hand to tip her chin up and the laughter freezes in her expression so that when his lips touch hers, he can still see the shining happiness in her eyes.

He really never imagined this. He imagined the sex, and the angst, and the forbidden nature of everything, but he never imagined the pure joy it would be to just _be_ with Elena.

(Maybe because he never knew people did this sort of thing. It's been an awfully long time since he was human after all, and he really tries to never think about it.)

It's this thought that sobers him, causes him to draw back from the soft but sensual kiss he'd been giving her. Is this what she meant-- _saving himself_ was this--facing and acknowledging all the simple human pleasures he'd allowed to become distorted through compulsion? Not ever making any kind of deep connection with anyone, because what was the point?

He doesn't want her to be his savior, but the truth is, she is. Because no matter what happens between them, whatever he does now is a direct result of how she makes him feel.

 _Because she makes him feel._

That's why he fell for her at all. Elena makes him feel human again. She makes him want to be human again--or at least do humanly things, to acknowledge that deeply buried truth within himself. (That he's just like Stefan in that way, he just hasn't been pretending like his brother.) Because of her being there, he's started caring about things--people--events; he's started feeling guilty for things--or allowed that guilt that's resided inside him for so long to come to the surface, to plunge through him. She's made him want it all to be worth something, to have meaning.

And that's why he can never turn her into a vampire.

*

As dinner ends, Elena can tell something's wrong. Damon has suddenly stopped smiling, and looking at her like he could devour her (in a good way). She can see how he's shutting down, how he's blocking out whatever pleasure they'd been enjoying together.

She doesn't say anything until they leave the restaurant. They're waiting for the valet to bring the car, and she puts her hand on his chest, running her fingers over the material of his dark blue button-down. His eyes shift to her face and she says softly, "I'm having a great time," which is totally true. It's not until he winces just a little that she realizes she's trying to manipulate him the way she's watched him do countless others.

(If only she had the power of compulsion.)

She stretches up and presses her lips to his. It's the first mouth to mouth kiss she's ever initiated, and she feels him react (indrawn breath, hand grabbing at her arm to pull her back slightly) and he shakes his head. "Not here," he says, the edge in his voice sparking over her nerve endings.

Maybe he's not shutting her out, maybe he's contemplating what will happen next. Elena hadn't been sure until just this moment, but she knows now. She wants to be with him, in every sense of the word. So she whispers, "Where, then?" and looks up at him in a way that he can't mistake.

His eyes are always so vivid, so clearly blue, and she's so familiar with them that when his pupils dilate and the blue is reduced to a thin rim, she knows that he wants her. (She's always known he wanted her, but this is in a moment when she really wants him to want her, when she wants him just as desperately, when she's made up her mind in the blink of an eye to give herself to him.)

The car appears at the curb and he breaks their gaze to slip the valet a tip and open her car door.

Once they're on their way again, she reaches over and takes his hand in hers. "We can't go to the Boarding House, and Jenna's home tonight, so my house wouldn't be good either."

She doesn't know what he'll suggest, but she knows he'll have some sort of plan. He's a man, after all.

"I'm just going to take you home, Elena. I don't think tonight's the night."

"What?" she asks. She feels that awful truth crawl up her spine again--she hadn't been imagining him slowly withdrawing from her.

"I could go to jail for what you're suggesting, you know," and he turns a smirk on her that makes her want to slap his face.

She jerks her hand from his and says, "That didn't stop you from messing around with Caroline or Vicki! What kind of an idiot do you think I am, Damon? And what's all this been tonight, if not foreplay? The rose, the fancy dinner, you looking like that in your suit, and me like this in this stupid dress!"

He's still got his lips twisted into that horrible defensive expression that she hates and he chuckles as he says, "You're forgetting that I'm a good guy now, and I don't--"

He's just brought the car to a stop at an intersection and Elena feels like her head's about to blow off with how angry he's made her, so she reaches over in the middle of his moronic statement and jerks the key from the ignition. The car dies just as Damon is giving it a little gas to move forward and she shoves open her door and jumps out.

"What the fuck!?" she hears him cry from behind her, but she just throws the keys in some nearby bushes and then starts walking. She's wearing three inch heels, and she's at least five miles from her house, but she doesn't care. She can't believe she fell for this, that she let herself think they were actually going to have some kind of honest relationship.

He's calling her name, but she doesn't even look back. She hopes he ruins his ridiculously tailored suit digging around in the mud for his keys.

Suddenly, he's standing in front of her and she gives a little scream of fright. "Get in the car, Elena," he says, and there is no humor in his voice or his face. It's not a full moon, but it's still a brightly lit night with clear, cold skies.

"No," she says and she glares mutinously at him. "I don't know what your problem is, or why you've changed your mind about what's going on here, but I have no desire to be with you if you're going to act like that." She moves to walk around him and he grabs her arm. "Either kill me, or let me go, Damon. Because I'm not willingly getting back in that car with you."

"Elena, we're going to get one thing straight right now. You are not dying, tonight, or any other time, because of vampire legends or some self-righteous sense of preserving the rest of us. This is what I know: I will die so you can live, and so will Stefan. And if we're going to do that, there's no sense in either of us--" He stops talking, and she knows with certainty he'd been about to say _loving you_ even though he doesn't allow himself to say it. "I just had an epiphany back there, okay?" he continues on, never finishing his first train of thought. "You either have to become a vampire--which is unconscionable to me, or you have to run. You, Jenna, Jeremy, Alaric, all of you, should go somewhere else, start a new life, be _safe_."

Every moment of her life seems to have led to this one, standing on a quiet city street staring into the eyes of the one man she should never love, but who has somehow lodged himself securely in her heart. It doesn't seem possible that it was just a few days ago that she came to understand the enormity of her feelings for him.

Reaching up, she puts each of her hands on his face, her fingers cupping his jaw, her thumbs tracing his bottom lip gently. "My destiny isn't to spend my life running, Damon. That was Katherine, and Rose. That's what Rose meant when she said she knew I was afraid, but I had to fight. If I die, it's meant to be--that I set you free in some small way. I'm willing to fight for that, for whatever way it's supposed to go. I'm willing to fight to live, too."

He swallows, and his tongue slides out to wet his lips. She tightens her grip on his face and says, "You can push me away all you want, but it won't change anything. It won't make you love me less just because you don't touch me. And it won't make me love you any less, either."

He inhales, a shaky almost-groan forming in his throat, and then his arms clamp around her, drawing her tight against his body. There are so many emotions in his eyes, and his mouth actually opens to say something, but Elena just covers it with hers. Words aren't enough anymore, and what Damon has always needed is the action behind the words anyway. She knows that better than she knows anything else.

He needs to be loved, and she needs to love him. It's just that simple. In between kisses she whispers things like, "We need some place to be," and "I'm sorry I threw your keys in the bushes," but Damon doesn't say anything immediately, he's too busy kissing her with none of the restraint he's shown up until this point.

He finally breaks away, gasping, and says, "I know a place, and it's okay, I can find them." But then they're kissing again, and Elena thinks the backseat of his car is sufficient, so when she moans that into the night air as his mouth moves down her neck to suck at the place where her blood thrums heavily, it seems to give him the capability of pulling away from her. He laces his fingers through hers and pulls her back to the car, putting her inside before finding his key ring hanging at the top of an ivy hedge.

The car roars to life; he drives with purpose, and Elena doesn't question anything.


	4. Chapter 4

Damon Salvatore has never had sex in a car. Back when he was the age that people did that...there weren't cars. And by the time there were cars, he'd learned that sex in a comfortable bed or up against a wall in a bar were his favorite places to do it.

So the back seat of a car was never in the cards for him, and though he loves Sophie (that's what he affectionately calls his Camaro), he's never lured a girl there before.

Not until Elena.

And he really hadn't had to lure her. It was more like her shoving him back there herself and climbing on his lap like she was dying of thirst and he was a fresh spring well.

Her hands make short work of the buttons on his shirt and they struggle to get him out of it and his suit jacket. When they both end up swearing and then laughing, Damon has this moment where he can't believe this is him, much less that this is him _and_ Elena.

They're ludicrous.

And yet, when she gets him naked from the waist up, she lets out an appreciative sound and runs her fingers down his chest, scraping his nipples with her short nails so that he bucks up under her. He's already hard as fuck, and her skirt's up around her hips and she's grinding down on him and he feels like the teenager he should be, getting busy in a parked car on a desolate mountain road.

He should have known that Elena, with all her bravery and stupidity, would be hella hot in the sack.

He cups her breasts through her dress, and she pushes herself more firmly into him, her hard, little nipples thrusting into his palms. He can tell she's not wearing a bra by how perfectly she fits into his hands. He squeezes both mounds and then focuses his forefingers and thumbs into pinch-rolling their centers, simultaneously pulling a moan from her throat and causing her nails to scrape down his stomach to the waistband of his pants. Her mouth glances off his, and then she attaches herself to his neck, in just the spot where he would bite her...if, you know, she'd let him.

He can feel the blood rushing into his face, his fangs extending, and he slows himself down just a bit. It's not always like that, but with Elena, he expects to be a little out of control. He focuses on all her hair cascading over them, the soft touch of it dancing against his chest and stomach, and when her lips are beginning to leave a mark on his skin, he buries his hand at the nape of her neck and jerks her head back.

He can't see her face very well, because it's pretty dark there in the back seat, but there's a flash of white teeth, so he knows she's smiling. "How do we get you out of this thing?" he asks, tugging on the sleeve of her little black dress.

Elena leans forward to rub her lips over his and murmurs, "Zipper. On the back."

Damon uses both hands to find the top of the zip at the base of her neck, and slowly tugs it down. She leans back slightly to let the dress fall off her shoulders, and she's not totally naked beneath it. She has some type of slip-lingerie underclothing on, but the straps slide down her arms with the weight of the dress.

Elena pulls her arms free of the garment and shoves it down so it's crumpled between their torsos. Then she wraps them around his neck, pulling his face against her throat. He kisses his way down from there, nudging the little lace nothing out of his way as he goes. When he finds one of her nipples, he licks at it lightly, and she hisses his name with a little _yes!_ attached at the end that nearly makes him come in his pants.

He knew he'd have a good time with her, but nothing could prepare him for the level of heat that she evokes in him. He isn't even out of his pants yet, and he's so ready, they might as well have been doing this for hours instead of mere minutes.

"Elena..." he gasps, still trying to control his need to bite her, because really, everything she does only incites him further, until he wishes he'd had more blood earlier in the day. (Like that would really kill the urge.)

"Yeah?" she responds, her voice somewhere between smokey and guttural, and seriously, Damon has to close his hands around her neck and push her back a little to keep himself from just going for it.

"We need..." he tries, but she shifts just then, moaning beautifully when his erection hits her just right, and God help him, he can feel how hot and wet she is even through the layers between them. He curses, loud and offensively, and she jerks against him, he supposes out of shock.

He didn't mean to sound angry, but good lord, he's about to die--or try to kill her, neither of which is part of the plan. "We need to slow down, baby," he chokes out and she says, _Oh_ , or maybe _Why?_ He's not sure, because the blood roaring in his ears makes him nearly deaf.

"I'm a little--in over my head--I guess," he grates out, keeping his hands around her neck. His mind instantly goes to dumping her back against the seat and going down on her, and just as she comes, he'd sink his teeth into her femoral artery, and the blood would gush over his tongue just like the fruit of her orgasm.

 _Not helping your situation, Salvatore._

Her chest is heaving and he can feel her straining against his hands slightly. Her own are working the belt loose at his waist and her fingers keep brushing over his cock as she attempts to free him. "I want you," she says needlessly. "So much, Damon, _please_."

It's the _please_ that gets him most, that drives into his mind, if not his heart, that they are in this equally, and while her desire doesn't extend to his blood, her need for him is just as great as his need for her.

"Elena, stop, just for a sec, okay?" he says softly, bringing her forehead to rest against his. "I want you, too, believe me, but I don't want to lose my head and bite you, so I need you to work with me a little here."

She lets out a stuttering breath against his lips and nods jerkily, as though this is a normal problem all her lovers have had.

That thought takes the edge right off, because of course, her last lover probably did have this problem. And he knows Stefan drank her blood fairly regularly. (Oh, god, he does _not_ want to know if they did both those things at the same time.)

He closes his eyes and lets his head fall back against the seat. Elena slides off his lap, carefully removing her leg without rubbing against him. She stays close, her head against his shoulder, and her hands remain near his waist. "Sorry," she whispers, and he can hear a mixture of shame and embarrassment in her tone.

"Nothing to be sorry for," he replies, rubbing a hand over her arm, cupping her elbow to hug her slightly. "Whoda thunk it, huh?" he quips as his breathing starts to calm.

"What?" she asks.

"Elena, you make me act like a 16-year-old boy. Or at the very least, a very new baby vampire. It's sort of overwhelming."

Her hand comes up to his face and she turns his head towards her so she can kiss him, but her lips only find his the corner of his mouth. "It's because you love me," she says.

 _No shit, Sherlock._ He doesn't say the first thing that pops into his head--he doesn't say anything. Instead, he slides his hand from her arm to her leg. She's not wearing any stockings, so it's just her bare skin under his palm. She whimpers a little, her mouth blindly searching for and finally finding his again, her tongue plunging past his lips.

He lets his fingers do the walking, right up her thigh to the edge of her panties. Her hips undulate, and he gives her what she's soundlessly begging for by tucking his fingers under the hem. He finds her slick and hot, and she kisses him harder as he runs his first and second fingers across her swollen labia. Parting them carefully, he dips into her just slightly and her hips buck frantically.

"Oh, god!" she gasps, pulling her face away from his. She reaches down, and her hand wraps around his wrist, guiding him somewhat unnecessarily. He chuckles a little and whispers, "I was getting to it," as she moans his name as she sinks down on his fingers. He can tell how close she is; her breathing grows even more shallow and then he slides his thumb over her clitoris. She falls apart all around him, the spasms radiating from her core outward. Her hand has moved into his hair, and she clenches a handful, painfully yanking on his scalp, but it's all good. Her reaction is so arousing, Damon can't help but turn them fully, pushing her down and across the wide back seat so he can strip her panties off and get his head between her legs.

She's panting and crying out, and when his mouth finds her, the hot, sweet musk of her fills his senses until he thinks the only flavor in the world is Elena, and it's the most delicious thing he's ever tasted.

Her hands continue to yank at his hair while he licks his tongue into her. After a few minutes of that, he sucks her clit up against his teeth with just the right amount of pressure, and she screams, not the terrified sound he's been known to cause in certain people, but a passionate cry that twists through him like red hot lava.

She hasn't recovered, at all, he can tell by the labored sound of her breathing and the fact that her hands have fallen away from his body. He quickly undoes his pants without her assistance, freeing his cock. He strokes himself twice, and then positions himself at her opening. She's so wet from the orgasms he just gave her that he slides in easily, but she's also tight as hell, and he catches his breath as her body closes around his.

"Damon, wait," she chokes, one of her hands seeking purchase on his hip. He pulls almost all the way out and pushes in again and they both grunt in ecstasy.

She feels so amazing, his brain is completely blitzed. "I can't," he breathes, and he hopes she'll forgive him for being unable to slow his pace for her. He grabs her neck in one hand and pulls her mouth to his. Opening his lips over hers, his tongue moves in the same rhythm as his hips while he pushes himself in and out of her body.

It doesn't take very many thrusts before he's coming, his vision whiting out, and he's fairly sure she's not going with him. Elena's hands have both found their way to his ass and she pulls him into her as much as he does it himself, and that's the only certain thing that registers for him as his orgasm washes over him in waves. It feels like it goes on and on, the pleasure escalating to such a peak that he ends up pulling his mouth from hers to bury his face in her neck, to gasp her name into her skin. Then he just collapses against her, and though her pulse pounds under his tongue, he's not even tempted to bite her.

Instead, he just lays in her embrace, trying to recover, knowing that he never will, not entirely.

"I love you."

It's Elena who says it, but that doesn't mean he can't feel it.

*

"I've never had sex in a car before," she says when she can make words again. She has one hand in his hair, stroking the damp strands at the back of his neck, and she has no idea how much time has passed, though she's pretty sure she must have blacked out there for a second. (Not before she told him how she feels, but that's because with Damon she can never turn off the need to make him aware of the truth, even if he can't say it himself yet.)

The muscles throughout her body are still twitching intermittently, and she feels completely hollowed out in the most profound way possible.

When she can finally formulate words into a sentence, that's the first thing that comes to mind-- _she's never done_ this _like this before_ \--and she just says it out loud, her voice breaking the silence like a gong. She and Matt had always had his house to themselves for their few fumbling times, and of course, she and Stefan had had his house, and her own, at their disposal.

The scent of Damon permeates every corner of the car, and Elena can't think of a more perfect place to be with him; in this small luxurious space that makes her feel completely surrounded by him in every way.

The sweaty skin of her back is stuck to the leather seat beneath her, but her chest is entirely adhered to Damon's. His breathing is just returning to a normal pace, and she feels his lips press lovingly against her throat. Then he heaves himself upward, and their skins come apart rather painfully.

He carefully moves back from her, muttering under his breath about this being the most unromantic place ever, and Elena sits up with him, using her hands to follow him and find his face in the dark. She kisses him, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck, and then she pulls back to whisper, "No, _this_ is the most romantic place _ever_." When he scoffs, she just kisses him again until she's sprawled across his lap.

He's already hard again, and Elena knows, having some experience with vampires, that this will go on for as long as she's able.

Damon groans her name, and his hands cup her bare bottom, the span of his palms easily covering the expanse of her backside. It takes a little maneuvering, but they tacitly agree that he belongs inside her. Elena braces her hands on the window behind his head and swivels her hips into his so that his hands slide up under her dress that is still around her middle. His fingers dig into her waist, helping her move just right, so that the sensation for both of them is strong and maddening.

This time it will be a long, slow rise to the explosive finale, and Elena can't help relishing every inch of him as she moves up and down on him.

"If I were a lesser man," Damon says in between kisses, "I'd think you were trying to kill me."

Elena laughs, deep in her throat. "Luckily, you're not a lesser man." She whimpers when one of his hands covers her breast and he guides her nipple to his lips.

He sucks it up against the roof of his mouth, and his tongue works her just so that the pleasure ripples straight to her groin, causing her to movements to get harder and faster. She can hear herself, loud and wanton, the sounds escaping her throat foreign and beautiful, even to her own ears.

He transfers his lips to her other breast, and his teeth scrape over that nipple. She curses, the word escaping her clenched teeth eagerly; his mouth is suddenly back on hers, and his tongue is deeply penetrating. She feels it again, the same tactic he'd used when he was on top of her; the cadence of his tongue on hers matches the way their hips are coming together, and Elena feels like he can read her from the inside out. It's so erotic, and it makes her work harder for the end result.

It is overwhelming, just like Damon said. She and Caroline had read many an issue of her mother's Cosmo to know that everyone says sex is a cerebral event and can be that much more amazing when you're in sync with your lover.

But this feels like so much more than that; it feels like something unreal, and unearthly, and the only thing that brings her any kind of comfort is knowing that Damon is there with her in the stratosphere.

When they both come again, nearly at the same moment, Elena knows this isn't normal, but she doesn't have the energy left in her body to deal with the magnitude of it.

She has this insatiable need to please him, to show him how much she wants him, for him to understand how desperately she loves him. But now, as she puts her forehead against his shoulder and sighs his name out softly, all she can do is wrap her arms around his neck and fall to sleep.

*

She awakens to Damon's hand stroking down her back. Her hair is there, between his skin and hers, and they are lying flat in the back seat, her on top of him.

She becomes aware that some time has passed with a start, and gasps, "What time is it?"

It jars him as well, and he finds his phone on the floor of the car. The screen illuminates and they can both see that it's almost midnight.

"I need to go home," she says softly.

He makes a sound of agreement. "I just lost track of time," he says and his lips press into the top of her head.

"Me, too," she says, laughing a little.

His hand slides up her arm to her shoulder and he hugs her against his chest. "Elena," he says, and his voice is so low that it vibrates up through his body into hers. "I love you."

She pushes herself up, sliding off of him to sit on the seat just in front of him. She touches his face which she can see because of the cell phone he hasn't set down yet. "I know," she says.

She feels his cheek plump under her fingers, and he shakes his head. "I loved you before all this," he says, his arm gesturing vaguely from his hip to the roof of the car.

She leans down and tips his chin up to hers. "I know that too, but wasn't tonight amazing?"

"More like terrifying," he breathes against her lips.

"You're not alone, Damon. We're in this together. I promise."

"I don't deserve you," he says, sitting up. His hands move to her waist and start tugging her underclothes upward.

Elena pauses just a moment, letting the gravity of his words settle between them. Then she stills his hand. "You don't deserve a lot of the things that have happened to you, Damon, but you do deserve to be loved."

When he would shake his head again, her hand fastens on his chin tightly. "Damon," she says fiercely and his eyes come up to hers. "We have enough problems, I don't need you sitting around undermining everything I say. You know I say just what I mean. I love you. Period. End of discussion."

"What about Stefan?" he asks. He seems so young, and not just because he hasn't aged a day in a century and a half. He's completely new to this whole thing, and Elena, being almost 18, is somehow the expert in their relationship.

"I love Stefan too," she says, trying to be as honest as possible. "But, I'm _in love_ with you."

"You once said it would always be Stefan; and it probably should be." His fingers have curled around her elbow, so even as his words seem designed to push her away, he's physically pulling her closer.

"What do I know?" she says with a smile. "I'm a kid."

His face is so serious, more serious than she's ever seen it. He sits up so they're close together. "You're young, but you're not a kid. You're the most amazing woman I've ever known."

Their lips meet softly. Elena feels the emotion swell between them, somehow more powerful than when they were in the throes of orgasm together. "I love _you_ ," she says, emphasizing the word with her tone and the press of her lips to his. "I choose you. And you have to trust me, even though that's really hard for you to do."

He tugs her into him so that they're hugging. His mouth is against her ear when he whispers, "I'll try, really hard."

Elena closes her eyes and holds him tightly. All she can do is hope.

*

By the time they get dressed and stop kissing long enough to climb into the front seat and drive home, it's well after midnight. He offers to walk her to the door and apologize to Jenna, but she just shakes her head and says, "I'll handle it," before kissing him again, her tongue flicking over his in such a way that he wishes it were the beginning of the evening and not the end.

He drives home, feeling lighter than he can ever remember. It's not just that he bared his soul with Elena in pretty much every way possible, it's that he actually believes the things she said. He knows that what they shared together meant as much to her as it did him, and it's the first time in 146 years he's been truly naked with anyone.

It's the first time in his entire existence that doing so has been a good thing and not the biggest mistake of his life.

It's a completely absurd reality, and he's as in love with it as he is with her.

By the time he walks into the Boarding House, he's so lost in reliving all the moments they shared that he is not prepared for Stefan zooming to a stop in front of him and punching him right across the face.

He stumbles into the old table in the foyer, his hands flying out to steady the propulsion of his body, but he is instantly on guard and his own fists come up to ward off any more sucker punches.

Stefan's face is livid, and Damon can't, at first, figure out what the problem is.

"Where the hell have you been?" Stefan demands.

 _Oh._

"Um..." he says, rubbing his aching jaw when he becomes certain his brother doesn't intend to hit him again, at least not right this minute.

"You can't disappear with her for hours at a time and not tell anyone! Alaric didn't know if she was kidnapped, and Jenna doesn't know that we broke up, so she just assumed Elena was somewhere with me."

For half a second, Damon thinks the blow to the face is finally Stefan succumbing to the man inside him that has lost the woman he loves to his brother, but of course, it's only about Elena's safety. If he didn't see the point, he'd just have to throw up in his own mouth a little.

"I'm sorry," he says, and he looks his brother full in the eye. "Seriously, Stef. I didn't mean to worry anyone. We lost track of time, that's all. She was safe the entire time." He tries not to think about how much he'd wanted to bite her, and instead focuses on the fact that he hadn't, and by the end of their encounter, he'd been almost completely satisfied with what he had received without any blood being exchanged at all.

"I'm sorry," he says again, and even he can hear the urgency in his voice. It's so unlike him.

Stefan's still poised aggressively, but he seems to relax with the second apology. He rubs the back of his neck and steps backwards, allowing Damon to move more fully into the house. Then he asks the craziest thing ever. "Did you have a good time?"

Damon gives him a look, one that asks _do you really want to know?_ and Stefan drops his gaze and backs further up. "Nevermind," he says softly. "Can I just assume now that if I can't find you, and I can't find her, you must be together?"

Damon thinks about his cell phone and how it hadn't rung all night. There had been plenty of time for Stefan to call and ask him if he was with Elena, but he hadn't. Maybe that hit hadn't been only worry-motivated.

"Stefan," he says and puts his hands out, palms up, in surrender. "If you want to beat the shit out of me, you should. Just do it. Just get it out of your system."

Stefan's lip curls into a smile that isn't really a smile at all. "If you think that will make it better for me, you have no idea what I feel for her."

Damon blinks, and considers that. With a little reflection, it becomes obvious that it really is a trite playground way to deal with what lies between them.

But then Stefan guts him figuratively anyway by saying, "You also have no idea how I feel about you, but maybe if I can get through this, you'll finally understand."

He turns then, walks away without a backward glance, and Damon's legs, which kept him upright even through an unseen physical attack don't seem as willing to hold him up in response to that. He makes his way to the liquor, pours himself a glass, and then sinks heavily into the chair by the entry way.

*

"You really are just that good, aren't you?"

Caroline is lying beside him, but Stefan doesn't even turn his head towards her. They've established this strange ritual over the last few days since she almost lost her life to some vengeful werewolves. Her bed is a Queen-sized, and they just lay on it, side by side, staring at the ceiling discussing the mess that is their lives.

(See Tyler left town, which made Caroline realize she's in love with him, and Stefan's girlfriend dumped him for his brother. They've had a busy week.)

"I'm not really," he says and she mutters _yeah, right_ under her breath, but he continues. "It's because it's Damon. He's the only person I love more than Elena. I've spent my whole undead life trying to not love my brother, Caroline. But for once loving him might be worth it. He's different with her. It's like she brings out all those things he silenced years ago. What kind of man would I be if I tried to stop that?"

Caroline's hands slap the mattress agitatedly. "You'd be _normal!_ " she screeches. "You'd be--like the rest of us mere immortals. Damon would never be so noble for you. _I_ could never do something like that."

"Yes, you would, if you loved the two people involved. But I hope you never have to find out that you would in fact be so generous."

Caroline half laughs, half groans and then rolls up beside him so she can press her face against him and bury the sound in his shoulder. "Oh, Stefan. We're so pathetic. Seriously."

He closes his eyes and enjoys her closeness. He may be pathetic, but for the first time since he became a vampire, the hope he feels for Damon doesn't feel hollow, or insane, or just wishful thinking.

The night Elena broke up with him, after he'd basically given Damon his permission to...do whatever he was going to do, he'd gone back to his room and thought he'd lose his mind. Suddenly, he could see in achingly small detail every little moment that he'd witnessed over the last several months, the things he'd chosen to ignore despite that flare of warning that had echoed in his gut. The connection between Damon and Elena had always been strong, but it had grown into something he'd never imagined.

He'd also relived so much of his time with Katherine, and he held himself responsible in a new way. Back then he hadn't cared that Damon so obviously loved the woman they both wanted; he'd pursued her at his brother's expense, and felt the satisfaction that comes from winning. He had been the one she chose, and he'd known it then, though Damon hadn't.

He'd known it long before she came back to Mystic Falls to torture them both with the knowledge, something Stefan didn't care a whit about, but was enough to wound Damon so deeply he killed Elena's brother.

It hadn't been just stepping aside for Damon, but also stepping aside for Elena, so she could fully examine what she felt--what Rose's death had seemed to unveil entirely. He couldn't stand in the way of that, and so he hadn't.

And it hadn't taken Elena very long at all to explore those feelings fully. To embrace them. To be as changed as Damon seemed to be.

"I'm gonna go home," he says to Caroline, turning his head so he can press his lips to her forehead. "But call me tomorrow, okay? We'll go play pool, quasi-stalk Matt, see if your mom has any news on Tyler. Okay?"

Caroline's blue eyes open and she looks up at him impishly. "Okay. I like having you as my BFF. You're better than Elena and Bonnie. Seriously, because you like really care what's going on with me. Not that they don't, but they're just, you know, wrapped up in their..." she trails off, and Stefan chooses to focus on the first part of her monologue.

"I'm not sure if that's a compliment or not."

"Definitely a compliment," she says, and she smiles so widely, Stefan feels his breath catch. He pauses a moment, just looking at her before shaking his head to clear it.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he says, rolling off the bed.

He lets himself out of the house and heads home. He's not actively seeking Elena out, and she's avoiding his house, which is good. Eventually he'll have to accept her in some other capacity in his life, but not right away.

Even Damon has the good sense to recognize that, and Stefan sees that for the growth it is. That Damon's not constantly rubbing it in his face is both a miracle and an indication of things to come.

*

There's a night, a few months later, after they've killed Klaus, and Katherine has left town for good, that Stefan is standing on a grassy knoll with his arms around Caroline. They're hugging after an epic battle, one that has preserved Elena's life and ended a belief about dopplegangers and their magic powers.

He looks over Caroline's shoulder to see Elena kissing Damon--like full tilt, open mouth kissing him, completely unaware to her surroundings or audience.

He can see it, from twenty yards, the way they burn for one another. It's potent and visible and Caroline's hand at his cheek causes his eyes to leave them locked in their passionate embrace. "Are you okay?" she asks.

Stefan has a moment, something sort of out-of-body, a flash of a different Caroline at that party he went to two years ago, the one where he knew just how much he needed to pursue a relationship with Elena, no matter how badly it might end. Caroline had been young then, not just human-young, but ridiculous and silly and completely oblivious to his gentle signs of rejection. So he'd been blunt with her, perhaps unnecessarily mean because he didn't compel people, but he'd told her it was never going to happen between them.

Why, right now, when an older, compassionate, and deeply concerned Caroline stands before him, he remembers that moment, he doesn't know. But he answers her question honestly. "I'm getting there," he says and he hugs her tight.

She just says, "I'm glad," and he can't help but love her. She's Caroline; she's his best friend. She would fight to the death for him, and then make sure he had the most stylish clothes at his own funeral.

Probably some time really soon, he's going to have to tell her how amazing and wonderful and fantastic she is to him.

He knows it will make her really happy when he finally does.


End file.
